


These Moments I Had With You

by ryssabeth



Series: Situational Irony [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drunk Driver, Grief, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryssabeth/pseuds/ryssabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll be right back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Moments I Had With You

“What movie do you want to watch?” Grantaire calls from the foyer and Enjolras hears the rustle of fabric as he pulls a jacket on, the metallic sound of the zipper following shortly after. He comes back into view, looking expectant, with a small smile, and Enjolras can’t bear to sit up, or he’d offer to go with him.

( _“You’re liking that couch more and more, admit it.”_

_“I’m tired.”_

_“You’re_ fond. _”_ )

“I don’t really care—I’m good with whatever you pick today.”

Grantaire laughs, “are you sure you’re feeling all right? You’re lying on the sofa, you’re letting me pick the movie,” he trails off, and his eyebrows bend with concern. “ _Are_ you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I will be right here, perfectly fine, when you get back. I love you.” (There’s always something special about the way Grantaire’s eyes crinkle when Enjolras says it first—there will always be something particularly lovely about it, even though he’s going on only ten days sober and looks exhausted more often than not.)

“I love you too,” Grantaire bends over the back of the sofa, standing on the tips of his toes to plant a kiss on Enjolras’ lips. “I’ll be _right_ back.”

He sweeps out the door, whistling a tune, and Enjolras doesn’t hold him to that—he takes a bit to decide on films ( _“you can’t just make-out during_ any _film”_ ), and so Enjolras has the time to maybe catch a nap on the sofa that he hates.

The lumpy cushions dig into his back as he dozes.

-

The video rental place is never crowded—but the woman at the counter knows him, and doesn’t mind his loitering, or his thinking out loud. (He always likes to have the conversation with Enjolras, even though he’s technically not here, because that way he can usually assume that his decision was the right one—or at least an acceptable one.)

He flips through the film options (classic pieces, Revolutionary pieces, recent political pieces), and he can hear Enjolras murmuring irritably behind him. ( _“We all know you’re going to pick_ The Pianist, _so just go for it.”_ )

“Shh,” he replies. “We have to visit all the opportunities before us, because _someone_ didn’t want to choose.”

The Enjolras he speaks to at the rental place huffs, and falls silent.

Grantaire takes his time.

-

Enjolras wakes up at eight-thirty—the half hour nap had been good for him, but his back is a little sore (it’s the sofa, it’ll always be the sofa). Grantaire has yet to return (and there are no texts yet, harassing him on _why_ , oh _why_ can’t he just choose a movie on occasion, is that so much to ask?).

He rolls over, pressing his face into the cushions, and falls back asleep.

-

Grantaire does settle on _The Pianist_ , and that comes as no surprise to anyone. His breath reacts to the cold by misting in front of his face as he walks home, holding the DVD close to his chest with a smile ( _one of these days_ , he thinks, _this movie will make Enjolras cry—guaranteed_ ), though his head is aching and his mouth is too dry, and anything to drink would be a blessing—except it wouldn’t be.

He sighs against the ache in him, the craving for liquor (because this is worth it—it really, _honestly_ is) throbbing in his chest.

Light sparks at the corner of his eye.

He looks over his shoulder.

-

He slits his eyes, looking at the time on his phone—almost nine.

Enjolras yawns, sitting up (and shaking out his hair, lest Grantaire mock him for bedhead), stretching his hands above his head.

If it’s taking this long, Grantaire will decide on _The Pianist_.

(He’s convinced he’s going to get Enjolras to cry.

Unlikely, that.)

-

 _Someone needs to call Enjolras_.

_I need to call Enjolras._

_Someone needs to—_

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, man, are you all right, oh my _God._ ” The person who hit him reeks of booze. There’s a half-empty bottle of vodka on the front-passenger seat.

Grantaire _laughs_ , pinned between the front of the car and the telephone pole behind him.

-

Enjolras’ phone rings. He reaches over the back of the sofa to get it, checking the ID whilst grabbing for his own coat to walk Grantaire home. ( _He’s probably quoting the film to himself._ Again.) Or at the very least meet him halfway.

“Hello? What can I do for you, Joly?”

-

He hears a distant flatline.

-

He slams the door behind him.


End file.
